Placebo
by lovely rubber boots
Summary: Once again, Lucy found herself Lorcan's arms, both of them wishing the other was someone else.
1. Chapter 1

**Placebo**

**by: Lovelyrubberboots**

**Disclaimer: if you recognize it I don't own it.****..**

**Thanks in advance for reveiws!**

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It was the seventh time in eight days she'd found herself in his bed, both of them promising each other that they could sleep together, platonically. A girl and a boy could share a bed with someone of the opposite sex without it meaning anything, without them doing anything – they'd done it before with other people. But why not each other? Why was it that, each time they slept in the same bed they'd ended up having sex.

Laying there, Lucy wondered why she was putting herself through this – not that she minded per se, but she knew that they meant both nothing and everything to each other.

Lorcan's arm was draped lightly around her body, yet they were pressed together – a perfect match for each other, physically and to a certain extent mentally. His breathe grazed her neck and she felt her heart pound. Silently, she closed her eyes and willed herself to ignore her desire to turn around and kiss him. But his arm tightened slightly and her urge became stronger. She could practically tell he was awake.

It almost made her want to cry. Silently she turned over, burying her face in his chest. He ran his hand through her hair, and she bit her lip, silently willing him to, but begging him not to run his hand through her hair. He did, plating a light kiss on her forehead and it was, at that point that she was gone.

It wasn't Lorcan's hand, it was Oliver Zabini's. It was him, caressing the locks of her hair, rubbing her back slowly. It was his lips on hers, not Lorcan's – and then, then they pulled away and she licked her lips lightly, squeezing her eyes shut. The moment their lips had parted, she was thrown back into reality. She wasn't kissing him, he wasn't kissing her. He was kissing her cousin Dominique. She knew it, she just knew it. And she didn't care, because that's what she was doing for him.

She wondered if he knew too. Lucy was willing to bet he did. Silently she lifted her head and looked at the clock on the wall. One in the morning, almost exactly. She closed her eyes again as she brought her hand to his chest, imagining it was running over Oliver's dark, smooth skin. Imagining for just one moment that Oliver wasn't her best friend, completely off limits for all practically purposes, and also wishing – for one fleeting, fleeting moment as Lorcan removed her shirt and as she reached for his pajama pants – that Dominique wasn't engaged. Because then, if only for a moment they could both live in a reality that suited them well.

For now, she'd live her fantasy. In the morning she'd apparate back to her apartment, change and go to work. She'd tell herself that she was only there because it was nice to be held by someone sometimes. She'd tell herself it was a physical thing only. She'd go about life as normal until, undoubtedly she'd run into him leaving at the same time as her. And – as much as she hated to admit it – she'd end up in his bed again, both of them wishing the other was someone else.

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read and reveiw = love.


	2. Chapter 2

**Placebo**

**by: Lovelyrubberboots**

**Disclaimer: if you recognize it I don't own it.****..**

**Thanks in advance for reveiws!**

* * *

Goblin vodka and blackberry juice. It was a grey drink and when Lorcan made it for Lucy, it spun his thoughts into confusion. The grey of the drink perfectly suited Lucy and when she'd had it and he kissed her, he could taste the bittersweet of the drink still in her mouth. It made his lips tingle in the strangest way and he wondering whether Lucy's cheeks burned for hours after Oliver had kissed her on them, in a friendly act of greeting. Even the thoughts of Dominique's lips made his lips tingle and his body like it was numb but floating at the exact same time.

And that was the way it'd always be, he supposed. Lucy sipped her drink and he sipped his elf made wine. He wondered whether she knew that he knew she was in love with Oliver. And he wondered whether Lucy knew that the cold grey of her drink reminded him of Dominique's eyes.

Was he terrible, her wondered, for pretending that's Lucy's brown eyes were Dominique's grey ones? That Lucy was freckle-less, that her brown hair was a lighter red, that she was slightly taller, slightly heavier. He wondered if she imagined his white skin to be black, his straight hair to be curly, and his thin frame to be broader.

After their drinks they would move to the bedroom, planning on nothing more than sleep. But yet, they knew that there'd be more, didn't they? Isn't that why he'd cast a contraceptive spell that morning? Wasn't that why she'd undoubtedly done the same? Was he complaining? Not entirely, after all, Lucy was very attractive, and he was having near nightly sex with her. But they both knew it was nothing more than that, because Lucy wasn't Dominique and he wasn't Oliver.

How had their lives become like this? It seemed only a few years ago that they were both happy, healthy seventh years, completely and utterly not in love with anyone else. But suddenly everything had changed and, just before he could make his move, Dominique had become swiftly engaged. When was it that Lucy had realized she loved Oliver? Lorcan didn't know, and as much as he tried not to care, he was curious. But he couldn't bring it up. Part of their unstated bond, their secret pact was that neither would mention the obvious.

Sighing, he closed his eyes, and holding her close breathed into her hair – it had almost no scent, and he was moderately disappointed. He was willing to bet that Dominique's hair smelt like something – maybe lavender.

For a moment he contemplated saying something. But what? "Lucy… we can't do this," he'd say. She wouldn't respond. No, she would – she'd say he was right and she'd leave, perhaps in tears, not out of sadness but of shame. And then, he'd sleep alone and so would she. Would they be happier? No, not necessarily, and with that thought he let it be, as she turned over and planted a kiss on his lips.

He groaned lightly as she pressed up against him, and he knew that again tonight they'd be together and, in the morning they'd see each other again. Because tomorrow was going to be a bad day. Tomorrow Dominque was getting married.

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read and reveiw = love.


	3. Chapter 3

**Placebo**

**by: Lovelyrubberboots**

**Disclaimer: if you recognize it I don't own it.****..**

**Thanks in advance for reveiws!**

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Dominique thinks they're cute, but Victoire disagrees. Dominique is too caught up in the flurry of a marriage that she thinks everyone is in love. She thinks that Lucy and Lorcan are beautiful together, and that they should let their relationship be known to all. But Victoire sees something different. She sees something oddly sinister.

Perhaps it's because she's always been more grounded than her sister, perhaps it's because she's not dizzy with love herself (not that she doesn't love her boyfriend, but she's not dizzy with it every hour of everyday) but, Victoire thinks there's a reason why Lucy and Lorcan haven't told anyone that they're together – and it's probably because they aren't. They are having sex that much is for certain. Even Uncle Percy can sense it. Victoire saw him tense up and glare at Lorcan involuntarily. Victoire doubts that Uncle Percy knows why he suddenly felt ill will towards the young man.

Yet, something tells Victoire that Lucy and Lorcan aren't just together for pure physical release. There's something more to it, and their distance she guesses isn't due to wanting to keep their relationship a secret (after all when has either of them shied away from telling the whole world about their lives?), but something else. They probably don't want to be together, Victoire guesses as she watches Lorcan ignore Lucy's flirting with another man in order to talk to another guest at the wedding. Both of their actions are true. Lorcan really does want to talk to the other guest, and Lucy really is flirting, but not to make Lorcan jealous. They are simply doing what they'd be doing under other circumstances.

While she knows something is going on Victoire doubts it is the flurry of love and joy that Dominique thinks it is. It is something bitter, something unpleasant, something she doesn't want to ruin her sister's day with.

Perhaps later, if Lucy and Lorcan continue their… whatever it is… perhaps, just perhaps Victoire will explain her thoughts to her sister. But in a few minutes their mother will come bursting into the room, and the woes of Lucy and Lorcan will be forgotten by Dominique and, Victoire knows, even herself for hours, if not days.

Sighing, she turns back to her sister, closes the drapes and puts a genuine smile on her face. Today is a day for love, not for spying and guessing about her cousin's personal life. Though, perhaps she'll think otherwise after many more glasses of champagne.

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read and reveiw = love.


	4. Chapter 4

**Placebo**

**by: Lovelyrubberboots**

**Disclaimer: if you recognize it I don't own it.****..**

**Thanks in advance for reveiws!**

* * *

Right now, they are having sex. She's calling out his name as they grind together. Biting, nipping, licking, kissing and everything in between. That is what they are doing right now, and she is trying not to care, because that's what she'll be doing tonight, in all probability. They were both drunk at the reception and now, back at her apartment Lucy has poured them both another drink. Her hands were shaking, she could barely do it, but she managed to convince herself it was the alcohol, not that Oliver had left for the night hand in hand with a pretty blonde girl.

She watches Lorcan finish his drink and as he pours himself another. In the background the radio is playing – the song has a fast beat and she feels her pulse quickening as she looks at him and their eyes meet. His eyes are sad, but strong, and she can't help but think that his thoughts are the same as hers – they are having sex. Dominique and her new husband, and Lucy's happy for them, she really is, but she can't help but to hate her cousin, if only a tiny bit.

As they move from the kitchen to her bedroom (narrowly avoiding tripping over the cat) she can't help but think of how ironic it is that they have found each other. She's nothing like Dominique and he's nothing like Oliver.

He could never be as great as Oliver.

Oliver would never sleep with a woman who'd had more than one drink. He wouldn't snore at night. He wouldn't accidently call her Dominique. But then again, he wouldn't ever be with her, would he? Because, Lucy hated to admit it, she and Oliver were just friends. It had been decided over many drunken conversations, over many sober nights spent awake talking in the common room, over many hugs and over the many times that he'd ignored her subtle hints.

Removing Lorcan's shirt and feeling his hands wind their way around her body only served to remind Lucy that she wasn't the only one living a lie. Lorcan was too, and he was probably comparing her to Dominique. As Lorcan's tongue found its way to her ear, Lucy took a moment to compare herself to her lovely cousin.

Dominique would never say no to a second dessert, knowing no harm could come from just one extra slice of cake. Dominique would never drink goblin vodka straight. Dominique would never have left dying flowers in a vase, forgetting to take them out for weeks on end. But Dominque was married and would never dream of kissing Lorcan – not just because she was married, but Dominique would never do anything with anyone she felt no genuine connection too. Dominique would have never found herself in this situation. Dominqiue would have spoken up to Oliver and told him to his face that she was madly in love with him, not just through little clues like signing letters 'Love Lucy' or by touching his hair. And Dominique would have done it the moment she knew, even if she knew the feelings weren't reciprocated.

But, as evidenced by Lorcan's soft words of "Oh Lucy," that meant so much more than 'Oh Lucy', as she began to button his pants with one hand, Lucy was not Dominique.

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read and reveiw = love.


	5. Chapter 5

**Placebo**

**by: Lovelyrubberboots**

**Disclaimer: if you recognize it I don't own it.****..**

**Thanks in advance for reveiws!**

* * *

"I'm not taking off your pants. Take them off yourself," Lucy sighed, rolling her eyes, so far, so dreadfully far into the back of her head that she could feel the strain. Even with the alcohol she'd consumed, even though her head was spinning, even though her mind was clouded – she was thinking clearly, "You don't want to do this," she told him, holding back her own thoughts her own feelings, her knowledge that she didn't want to do this either – but to let him know that? Never.

"You - " he stuttered back to her, glaring, angry, "you – don't want this either," his words were slurry and angry. How dare she? How dare she break their silent vow? Their silence over what they both knew – how dare she? He'd kept it to himself. How many times had he been standing near Oliver in a bar, biting his tongue, holding back the urge to tell Oliver everything, to bring Lucy's world crashing down around her, to force her into doing what she'd never have the guts to do herself – what he'd never had the guts to do before it was too late. And now what? Nothing.

He was stuck doing nothing. Nothing except sleeping with Lucy Weasley, something most men would have loved to do. Too drunk to floo, fly or apparate Lorcan tugged away from her grasp – and easier task than he thought it would be, before leaving her apartment. Out the door. How on earth he was supposed to get out he didn't know. He'd never been in the hallways. But he'd get out. Stumbling through the maze of hallways as he worked his way, slowly but surely to the doors leading to the street where he'd grab the Knight Bus.

As he left, she smiled, she glared and, finally, she cried. Right there on her kitchen floor she cried. Grabbing blindly for her wand she debated trying to make a patronus. But who would she send it to? Molly? Vic? Another cousin? God forbid, Lorcan or Oliver? She put her wand back down. There was no point. She had a Weasley breakfast the next morning anyway, complete with newlyweds.

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